Posted in Crossfit, Life

Bring your horse, but leave your dog at home

Posted on by William Douthwaite

My favorite grocery store, where it’s a pleasure to shop, said “Enough is enough.” While I’ve never thought of bringing my dog shopping with me, plenty of folks walk right in a their furry canine friend on a leash. The only other companion pet I’ve seen is a lizard on the shoulder of a shopper in a big box home improvement store.

My dog would love to come shopping with me. There are snacks around every turn, from meat to cheese to cookies and dog treats. There are people to meet and children to chase and so many smells to smell.

My dogs have always been a comfort to me, are faithful companions, and never fail to lift my spirits. But I can be away from them for a short shopping trip. When I get home, they’ve guarded the house, are excited to see me, and will sniff my shopping bags in hopes of a treat.

The verbiage on this sign that caught my attention referred to miniature horses who functioned as service animals. I have never seen a miniature horse in a store. I would love to see a miniature horse in a store. I’ve seen a mastiff as big as a horse in Walmart, but never an actual horse.

I’ve learned that miniature horses make good service animals, most often for the blind or visually impaired. They live longer (up to thirty-five years), they don’t shed (sorry, retrievers!), house train easily, and they are not as social as dogs tend to be so they do better in public spaces.

I really want to see a miniature horse in the store, legitimately guiding a person who relies on them for sight or stability. And I want to meet the doctor who will write a note saying you need an “emotional support pet.” Come on, doc. Everyone needs a dog! That’s not rocket science. And don’t you be billing my insurance for that prescription.

Posted in growing up, Life

We had fireflies.

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Rajesh Rajput on Unsplash

“Look, fireflies!”

It’s not like we had never seen fireflies before. Both my wife and I grew up with backyards full of the tiny flying lights every summer. We filled up glass jars with the easy to catch insects and punched air holes in the metal lids to keep them alive and light up our rooms after bedtime. That project never really worked, but were convinced that the right combination of bugs and grass would turn the night into day.

I’ve read that there are many species of lightning bugs in Florida. We’ve got the right conditions, but I’ve never seen one in the northeast part of the state where we currently live. My most recent sighting has been in western North Carolina, when dusk brought the cry, “Look, fireflies!”

Bioluminescence is magical. Light that does not come from a bulb. There is no cord plugged into the wall. There is no battery. There is no flame. A little biology, a little chemistry and there’s light!

Lightning bugs bring back great childhood memories. My grandchildren love to play with flashlights, small battery powered votive candles, glow-in-the-dark toys, and go to bed with nightlight stars covering the ceiling.

We had fireflies.

Posted in fun, Life, Travel

Extreme tubing at Highlands Outpost

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It’s just sliding down a hill. It’s basic, simple, and so entertaining. It’s one of the reasons we drove to Highlands Outpost on Scaly Mountain, west of Highlands, North Carolina. Along with gem mining (who doesn’t have gem mining in this area?), an alpine slide (crazy fast and fun), a BBQ restaurant (which was closed the day we were there), and trout fishing (a stocked swimming pool-sized pond), they advertised “extreme tubing.”

At a local playground, my grandchildren love sliding down the astroturf hill on a cardboard box. In the winter, we slid down my dad’s snow-covered backyard hill on saucer sleds until we were too cold and exhausted to climb up for another run. Extreme tubing? This is going to be great.

A simple hill and inflated tubes lived up to the hype. For twenty bucks you had access to the hill for an hour. At the bottom we grabbed heavy-duty five foot diameter tubes and dragged them to a conveyor belt. The conveyor belt then took us another three hundred feet up the hill. At the top of two slides, staff dipped our tubes in a soapy solution and shoved us down the slide after we hopped in.

The soapy solution and sprinklers along the way combined to make this a fast ride down the hill. The first time I went down alone, spinning the whole way. I got a little air over the three dips in the hill, before sliding to a stop at the bottom. Subsequent slides were in pairs, trios, and even four of us liked together, holding on the feet of the person behind you. The more weight, the faster the ride!

My four-year-old grandson, small enough to sit cross-legged in the tube, spun and giggled the whole way down. Inhaling as much air as I could, I screamed for an entire run in one breath. Everyone I saw was laughing by the time they reached the bottom of the hill. So basic. So simple. And so much fun!

Each round trip took about five minutes, so we each got a dozen rounds in before our time was up. With unlimited energy to burn, the grandsons would have gone all day if they could. The grown-ups enjoyed every slide, too. What a fun afternoon!

In the winter, the same tubes take you down snow-covered hills, which are probably even faster. I’ve got to come back for that.

Posted in Life

We’ve got to reschedule. Again.

Posted on by William Douthwaite

We’ve been waiting to get a sliding screen door installed for our garage. It will give us both ventilation for garage workouts, while preserving a little privacy. When we signed the contract and put some money down, we knew they were scheduling installation about ten weeks out.

Last week, they called and set up an installation appointment, a few days earlier than I expected. Sweet. Well, kind of. I had to move the basketball hoop from in front of the garage. I had forgotten just how much sand and water I put in the base. It must have weighed three hundred pounds. I did manage to get it out of the way.

Very early in the morning, I got a voice mail from the company. “Three of our techs called in sick today, so we will call you to reschedule.” Three? Sounds fishy, but hey, that’s their problem. Just let me know when you’ll be here. I’m flexible.

They called the next day and set up another appointment. That morning around seven, I got a voice mail. “We apologize for having to reschedule your installation. The tech who was going to do the work is on the way to the hospital with a broken bone.” Ouch. Once again, just let me know when you can come.

Later that morning, I answered a call from them, “I’ll bet you wish you had a few healthy techs!”

“Yeah, it’s been brutal rescheduling every day.”

When you’re scheduling your installations nearly three months out, business is good. But it’s got to be hectic making sure you have enough (healthy) workers to get the jobs done on time. I’ll bet not everyone is as patient as I am. But I’ve learned that being patient is worth it.

Posted in Life

How about an upgrade?

Posted on by William Douthwaite

One of the email newsletters I receive on a weekly basis includes an invitation to “upgrade yourself.” I receive the free edition, but a paid subscription promises “exclusive content, access to an online community, hand-edited podcast transcripts, ad-free everything, early access, and more.” It’s a clever tease. I’m not asked to upgrade my subscription, but myself. Who doesn’t want to be a better version of themselves?

I live in a world of upgrades. I upgrade my phone iOS, computer macOS, and web browsers several times a month. (It only seems like every day.) I have to. I dare not skip a security update. I need the newest features. And I hate seeing the little round circle on an icon reminding me that I am not up-to-date.

The encouragement to upgrade myself suggests that I could be better, happier and more productive than I am right now. Didn’t I just write about continual improvement? If I’m not improving, am I getting worse? I don’t like the sound of that.

What if I’ve already been the best version of myself? I know I’ll never run as fast as I did in my twenties. I have more scars than I used to. My hair isn’t dark anymore. My shoulders keep saying, “Hey, don’t do that!” I’ve already upgraded my eyes (cataract surgery and implants), my teeth (caps on molars), and my skin (the dermatologist cleaned up a few spots here and there).

So what would be a better version of me? It’s probably looks like someone else. Someone who’s smarter, happier, wealthier, more attractive, and has more friends. But that’s not me. That’s them.

The best version of me? I’m the only version of me, for better or worse. I don’t need an upgrade.

Posted in DIY

Those wood stickers aren’t going to fool anyone

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I had no problem assembling a small writing desk for what used to be our front bedroom. In fact, I challenged myself to put it together without looking at the instructions. I’ve built enough pieces from IKEA and Wayfair to know what to expect when I open the box.

As expected I found a packet of screws, cams, and wooden dowels inside the box. Fifteen minutes later, I was finished except for one last step. The manufacturer included several sheets of stickers that someone thought looked like wood to cover up the metal screws visible on the back of the desk.

The stickers didn’t match the color of the desk. The grain didn’t match the laminate covering the desk surfaces. I stuck them on anyway. Maybe from a distance they wouldn’t look too bad.

From a distance my wife said, “That’s ugly.” Those stickers won’t fool anyone. And they weren’t that sticky, either, already starting to peel away.

Forget that. On to plan B. I’ll paint them black to match the black trim around the top and legs of the desk. I brushed some black acrylic craft paint over the bare metal. Perfect.

I wonder who came up with the idea of fake wood stickers? There are plenty for sale online. How many people use them? How many people actually like them? I’ll bet the workers in China chuckle as they pack these in the boxes destined for American homes.

Posted in dogs, Life

A magical moment: learning to feed the dog

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It’s a magical moment when a child learns to feed the family dog. No one teaches this skill to the child or the dog. It comes naturally.

A lot of life precedes that moment. The infant is old enough to sit up by his- or her- self in a high chair. A couple of teeth have appeared on top and bottom so that they can negotiate some solid but soft food. The little one has also mastered the art of grasping a Cheerio, a pea, or a chunk of hot dog.

Not every morsel will make it into the mouth. Some fall to the high chair tray. Others tumble into their lap. Still others drop to the floor.

The observant pup springs into action, eating the crumb and licking the floor clean for good measure. As more pieces of food descend like manna, the dog figures out the source. It’s that little person. Why wait for the food to hit the ground? If you sit in just the right spot, you can catch it on the way down.

The observant child marvels at how quickly the escaped food vanishes without ever touching the floor. And if you reach your hand out towards that black nose, the food will disappear even faster. A tail wags, the giggles begin, and both are delighted!

Dogs know this is their way of helping keep the floors clean. Children remember this trick for the future, when mom or dad prepares food they don’t like. A win-win, right?

Posted in Life

A crowded gas station: no rebate for you

Posted on by William Douthwaite

It was the perfect storm. I’m a big fan of filling my tank at gas stations where I can get rebates from apps on my phone. Seventeen cents per gallon back to me in cash? I’m on my way.

I couldn’t even pull into the parking lot of the convenience store. First, I encountered a garbage truck waiting to get to a dumpster blocked by a parked van. Who knew when that driver would come back out?

A jeep was parked in the middle of three pumps, blocking one side. A couple of guys with tools were working under the hood. They weren’t going anywhere soon.

On the other side of the pumps, a pickup with a trailer full of lawn-cutting equipment blocked off two of the pumps. Beyond him was yet another pickup and a person doing something with the underground fuel tanks.

Every parking spot in the front of the store was occupied, and construction trucks were parked on the sides of the road out front.

I watched for a few minutes as the driver of the garbage truck impatiently waited to pull in, the driver of the truck with the trailer tried to back out, the guys working on the jeep crawled underneath to get a look at what was going on, and no one was coming out of the store.

This out-of-the-way store rarely has customers. That’s why they offer larger rebates. Forget this. I’ll find another place to fill up.

Posted in Stories, youth

The case of the missing hotdogs

Posted on by William Douthwaite
Photo by Ball Park Brand on Unsplash

“There’s only four hotdogs in here! What happened to the rest of them?”

Just a few nights ago, we had hotdogs for supper before an evening of vacation bible school. We wrapped up a dozen or so in aluminum foil and put them in the refrigerator for youth group in a few days. Plenty of condiments. Some bags of chips, too. One less thing to worry about for the meeting.

A few minutes before everyone arrived, I discovered that there were only four left. Four. Really? When another youth leader arrived, I ran out to the store and bought some hotdogs and buns. Crisis averted, but I was annoyed.

I was annoyed enough that I unwrapped those four leftover hotdogs, slit them open, filled them with tabasco sauce, flipped them over, and wrapped them back up. I so hoped the thieves would return for more. And I would love to be there when they bit into a really “hot” dog!

This actually happened seven years ago when I was helping out in-between youth leaders. I came across my notes about this night as I was sifting through a journal from 2016. I don’t actually remember that moment and I don’t know how it all turned out, but I sure enjoyed reading about it.

So don’t steal hotdogs from the church refrigerator. And don’t leave tabasco sauce out when I’m around.